No Strings Attached
by Crimson Judgement
Summary: Bella never set out to be the other woman, always waiting, always hurting. She didn't set out to get hurt. But in this game, there are no winners. There are only broken hearts, empty promises, and too many tears to cry. Edward/Bella Edward/Tanya AH AU
1. No Strings Attached

**No one ever sets out to be the other woman, always waiting, always hurting. No one ever sets out to get hurt. There are no winners. There are broken hearts, empty promises and too many tears to cry. Edward/Bella Edward/Tanya AH AU**

**No Strings Attached**

You know that this is pointless, but you simply cannot stop. Watching. Waiting. Forehead pressed against the cold pane of glass that looks down upon the street. The rain beats down in a steady drum, dropping and splashing against the cobblestone outside as cold and grey as your heart. Edward's with her again. No question about that. She's given him the child he desired, while your womb remains empty, barren. He's given her his name, and yours remains the same shameful name you've carried all your life. Swan. Everyone knows your mother ran away at the height of your parents marriage and your father took his own life not long after that.

This great big world is scary when you have no one. Maybe that's why you cling to him so hard. Maybe. Or maybe it's that you love him still, despite the fact that he married Tanya. That's it, of course. You know it is. No one wants to be second best, but you know that's what you are. But, sometimes lying to yourself is the only way to make it through the night. Especially a night like tonight, when the rain drops down your tears, and another woman holds the child of the man you love to her breast. He doesn't love her. He says he loves you. He means it. Really, he does.

Only, you know better than that. Somewhere. Deep down. Really deep down.

You sit and wait. It's what you do best, after all. You think perhaps it's what all mistresses do best. You hate that word, but it's what you are. You're the other woman. The one who spends her time watching the clock, praying that his cell won't ring with urgent business that will take him away from you. His visits are so infrequent now.

A soft splash outside and a quick, but quiet rap on your door announces his arrival. You knew he'd come tonight. There was never any question.

"Have you heard?" he asks, sweeping through the door and pulling you to him, so that his rain slicker douses you with water and he flings drops from his damp copper hair reminding you of a puppy, and making you smile. Puppies are far more faithful creatures than men. Perhaps you should purchase a dog.

"Of course. A son. Congratulations." You say the words that your heart doesn't feel. This new addition only binds him to her more, and she's your most hated friend. Right or wrong, you simply cannot stand the sound of her name. After all, she has what you so desperately want. Him. But to her face, you are all smiles and politeness.

You bite your tongue, but ask because you will look heartless if you don't. "And Tanya?"

His eyes narrow at the question, and as hard as he looks at your face you're sure he'll see the deceit hidden there. He doesn't. He smiles at you. You must mask it better than you realize. "You're very sweet to ask. She's doing well. It's what I love about you, you know. You have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known."

Big, but not big enough to make you leave her. You bite your lip to keep those words from slipping out. He'll leave if your cattiness shows itself, and leaving is the last thing you want him to do. Thus, you say the words that he'll expect. "That's nice."

Sometimes you look in the mirror and wonder where that girl you used to be has gone. Before, you would have snapped out something catty, told him to find the nearest bridge to leap from and slammed the door in his pretty face, and if it hit him in the nose, then all the better. But things have changed. You've changed. Grown older. There are a few more laugh lines and bags around your eyes these days. And perhaps this role of mistress has changed you in ways that are only now beginning to grow tiresome.

You wonder how you got here, but deep down you know. At first this was fun, exciting. The stolen kisses in his office at the Hospital, trysts in the bathroom, lifts, wherever you might not get caught. Every moment precious, exciting, even if it felt wrong. His wife was at home, after all, and there was something that felt oh so very right about its wrongness. And now, it's left you like this. A dish rag. Something to be used and cast aside at Edward's whim. That sad girl in the mirror is so unlike the one who fell in love with him. You wonder if he misses her as much as you do.

"You seem thoughtful tonight, quiet. Not like you at all."

"Things are changing," you whisper, and you hate those blasted tears that begin to gather in your eyes.

He grabs your arms and pulls you to him, his wet slicker still on and making you wetter still. "It's not like that. Not what you think. I don't love her. You know that. I'm going to leave. We'll be together. Everything I've told you will happen for us. I don't break my promises, love. I'm only there for the child. You know that. As soon as she's stronger, I'll force her to leave and you and I will be together. Just like I promised you. Don't I always keep my promises?"

You nod your head, wanting so much to believe the lies that fall from his pretty lips. You even try to forget that this affair (such a dirty word) has been going on far longer than his wife (a word even more detestable than affair) has been carrying his child. The promises (oh, so empty, they are) have gone on longer too. But still, he means them. You're sure he does. He wouldn't lie to you. He wouldn't say he loves you when he doesn't. Right? Right? You need so desperately to believe that. All of it.

He shrugs out of his slicker and looks you over. You love the heat of his green eyes as they travel down your body. "Look at that, I've gone and got you soaked."

In so many ways.

"It's cold outside. You'll catch your death, darling." He passes you and walks to your bathroom. He knows your flat well, knows where everything is kept, and it warms your heart to see that he's so familiar with your place. He brings back your favorite towel and wraps you in it, rubbing it up and down your soaked blouse, and you feel your nipples harden beneath his paternal ministrations. It's nice to be cared for and you relish his touch. It's all those little things combined that keep you hopeful.

Hopeful he'll stay. Hopeful he'll return. And hopeful that the day will come when he keeps those promises that you hold so dear to your heart. That day when you won't be alone any longer. That day always just out of your reach. And oh, how you want it.

He takes you by the hand, slim perfect fingers threading through your own, and brings you to the sofa. The feel of cold gold on his finger as it touches your palm makes you shiver in revulsion. He's careful to pull the window shades before he joins you there, and your heart breaks a little, but not too much. After all, having him there is better than not. Even if he's ashamed to be there. No, that's not it. You tell yourself it's not. He's only being careful. Biding his time. Holding back until he can let the world know he loves you. What you do together is not for prying eyes. It's all the more special because it belongs only to you. That's the biggest lie of all.

"I've missed you," you say, and you hate the way your lip quivers and your voice cracks. You wonder when you became so needy, clinging.

"Not nearly as much as I've missed you." Edward pulls you onto his lap and his lips come toward yours. They capture your mouth and his tongue begs entrance. You grant it gladly, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him until there is no air. You've waited so long to have him here that you simply want to kiss him until forever is no more. And maybe then you'd still like to kiss him.

You nip at his lip, biting, tasting, teasing. Doing all the things you think a proper wife might hold back from doing. Showing him everything he misses when he doesn't share your bed each night. It's only when you're in the circle of his arms that you find your spirit; the ability to be that girl you once were so many years ago. Fiery, passionate, full of sparks. You straddle his legs and cup his face between your palms, arching your back and grinding down against him. He's already hard, and your ability to arouse him gives you a feeling of power. Your skirt is bunched up around your waist, your shirt so soaked that it leaves nothing to the imagination and Edward's tongue is wrestling with yours for dominance. A battle he will never win.

You have no control over when he comes around, no control over when he calls, no control over how often he visits or how long he stays, but in this regard you are in the driver's seat. And that's the way you know he likes it. That's the reason he needs you, whether you like to admit it or not. You think, perhaps, it is the only reason he needs you. But those thoughts are too hard to think, so you brush them aside as you push back his damp fringe and capture his lips in a kiss meant to warm him down to his toes.

It's always like this. The soft sounds of clothes landing on the floor, the sharp slap of bodies coming together in a heated rush, ecstasy coming out in moans and sighs, 'I love you's' said without a word spoken. Or maybe that's just you. You rake your fingernails down his back, drawing blood, as he drives into you over and over, the desire to mark him as yours (if just for a little while) demanding that you do it. He gasps, and you wonder if he's thinking of an excuse even as he loves you, for how those marks got on his skin. You'd like to be there when he explains.

It's petty, and you know it. It's wrong, and it gives you just the slightest tremor of happiness to know that he'll have to explain you away. And it hurts you just as much, because you never wanted to be just an explanation.

He brings you to climax. He always does. It's not hard to come undone, not when you're in the arms of someone you love. Your body sings beneath his touch. And nothing that feels so right could ever be wrong.

"Fuck, you're amazing," he says, as he rolls to his side and pulls you near, placing a kiss on your forehead. Men don't do that to people they don't love. You tell yourself that enough times, you might even believe it someday. You cling to the small things. After all, they're all you have.

"Stay," you whisper, because you know all too well what comes next. Next comes the leaving. Next comes the promises that he won't keep. Next comes the tears, and you're oh so tired of crying. And worst of all, next comes waking up alone in a bed that's cold and bare. It wasn't supposed to be this way. You went into this knowing full well that he was a married man, that Tanya existed. It was supposed to be sex, no strings attached. Feelings were never supposed to enter into the equation, they never were, not in situations like this. You never set out to be the "other woman", at least not for so long. A few nights, a few fucks, and you were going to be out of there. Relationships like that were easy. Don't get involved, don't feel anything and don't get fucked over. Only, it never works that way, does it?

"I can't stay. You know that, love. I have to go back. The new baby and..."

You shush him with a finger to his lips. You just don't think you can bear it if he says anything more. "Kiss me," you say, almost ashamed at how much your need seeps through in your voice. Shamed or not, you go on. "Kiss me before you leave me again."

"Soon," he whispers as his lips touch yours. "Soon, it will be you and me, and I'll never ever have to leave you again. I can stay here and love you forever. Just like you deserve."

You know it's simply another of his lies, but you hang on to that one lifeline he throws you because you need so much to believe that there's more in your future than this. Because this, this isn't a future at all. It's a lifetime of waiting for someone to fit you in.

You watch him dress from your place on the sofa, and you smile when he brings a blanket from your bed to wrap round you. "Can't have you getting cold now," he says. Just another little way he shows he loves you. Isn't it? You're certain he doesn't get her blankets or care if she gets cold. Does he? No, he doesn't. He can't. If you allow yourself to think of him being kind to her, it shatters your dreams, so you shut it out.

And then, like the rain, which slowed to a drizzle while he loved you, he is gone and it has stopped. And you, you're alone, clinging to empty promises and wondering where that girl you used to be has gone. And realizing just how much you miss her. That girl with high hopes and grand dreams. She was so full of life.

If you could do it all over again, you'd warn that girl, that young you, that there is no such thing as no strings attached. And you'd warn yourself to listen to Edward's proposition, and then to run like hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, I know it's been a while, but I just got a shot of inspiration. So, here it is. the new chapter of No Strings Attached.**

**No Strings Attached **

**Chapter 2**

You are not expecting the knock this time. He has not called, and he never comes over unexpectedly. Therefore it is not him. Your heart, brought to life by the prospect of his presence, sputters and dies quickly. You wonder if it's even worth it to open the door for anyone else? Finally you decide you might as well.

The walk to the door seems longer when he is not waiting on the other side. When you swing the door open, the sight that greets you almost causes a heart attack.

She stands there, calm as you please, baby in one arm and an umbrella in the other.

Tanya.

It hurts just to think her name, to see her is even worse. She looks the same as the last time you saw her at graduation. She hasn't aged a day, while you look horrid, lines from stress and unhappiness liberally decorating your face. Why is she here? Does she know? Where is Edward? Does he know she's here? The questions spin in your mind as you watch her with wide eyes, like a dangerous animal ready to strike. She watches you with a jaundiced eye, then says softly, "Are you going to let me in out of the rain Bella?"

You startle at the sound of her voice, but let her in. What else could you do? If she doesn't know then you mustn't give her reasons to be suspicious. These thoughts are stopped as soon as you close the door behind her.

"I know everything." she states as if remarking upon the weather, still in the same soft tone. You realize that the baby, the bundle cradled so lovingly in her arms, must be asleep. Turning, she looks you in the eye while you look everywhere but at the little lump of cloth, knowing somehow that if you saw it, it would destroy you.

Softly and slowly, the strawberry blonde tells of her knowledge of your affair, the word still seeming too ugly when used to describe what takes place between you and Edward. She repeats the declarations (lies) her husband has made to you while you simply stand there in the entry to your flat and listen, completely still as you watch your imperfect world fall apart. She finishes with a penetrating stare, her blue eyes piercing all your walls, seeing everything that has happened. All your hopes and dreams, fears and insecurities. She sees the girl you once were, so trampled and beaten down by a man's poisonous promises. She looks at you with pity, and you can't take it so you look away.

Caught up in the emotional vortex and confusion, you realize that you haven't answered her. She had just asked a question, well not really a question but a request for confirmation of what she already knew. You nod, why deny it? And suddenly your stiff and tense shoulders sag, exhausted by all of it, perversely you wish Edward were here to hold you and make it all go away. The weight of the life you've led dragging you down.

A little spark of the woman you once were comes to the fore, surprising you, but only drawing a smirk from her. "Why have you come? How long have you known?"

She replies curtly, "Since it began." And suddenly your mind is reeling. All along. She's known all along.

The woman in question cocks her head to the side and continues assessing you, "As for why I've come, I've come to save you. We were friends once upon a time. And for that reason along with a few others, I let this," here she paused as if searching for the right word, "tryst, continue. But I have been following its progression, and have become increasingly concerned over the years that you have become too attached."

So she had noticed?

"I remember you being smarter than that, so I had a P.I. bug my husband." she goes on. Your mouth gapes open as her words register. She'd heard everything. All of it. It's almost too much, all the moments you thought were supposed to be intimate and special, completely ruined. She smiled, taking slight pleasure in your pain despite what she'd said about saving you.

"I heard every false promise he made, every lie. And you know them to be lies Bella. I can see it, you're just in denial." Then she does something you do not expect, not that any of this was expected. She quickly closes the distance between the two of you and unwraps the bundle in her arms so you can fully see what was before a relatively shapeless pile. Your unwilling eyes are drawn to what is now revealed. Little arms and legs, limp and still with sleep, were curled up against a tiny, pale body. Dark copper curls graced a little head with a features of angelic peace and beauty. Involuntarily your hand reaches out and just as the tip of your finger makes contact with impossibly soft skin, tiny blue eyes open, so like his mother's, and stare at you with mild curiosity.

It's too much, to see her eyes set in a face so like his. You break down and start to sob, meanwhile she starts to speak again and you can't help but hear her say, like an insidious whisper in your ear blending with the voice of your own subconscious, "Do you see now? Do you see? He lied to you Bella. He has always lied to you. He does not love you. He's not going to leave me." The daggers fly straight from her mouth to your heart as you sink to the ground. She's right. You know she is.

"Do you really believe he would ever leave me? Or him?" You see her gesture to the baby in her arms, his baby, and bow your head. No. You don't. It was so real and truthful when it came from his full lips, but with the little newborn right there. Having seen him, you know he could never do it. Never. There is no way he would leave him for you. It hits home and hits hard, and your tears drip down your face and splatter on the stone beneath your knees.

Yet throughout all this, you still wonder why she came? All she's done so far is make you acknowledge things you already knew deep down inside. But how does that save you? It doesn't lessen the love you feel for him, nor the need. But it seems as if she already knows this, for she goes on, "You know he wouldn't, Bella. I don't know why he is leading you on like this, but I do know you don't deserve it. I want it to stop, and if I so chose, I could stop it easily just by revealing to my husband that I know of this little farce." It hurts to hear her call him her husband, and you flinch as the word farce is used to describe something that was your everything, but your tears are running out. Now you just pant brokenly at her feet, the degrading and humiliating position not even reaching the numbness that has started to take over.

She continues, "But that I will not do." and shakes her head decisively. "I have listened to him take the power from you, and honestly it has sickened me. Edward does not know I am here, but I will be confronting him about this right after you end this affair." The gasp that escapes you is small, but she hears it. "Yes, Bella, I am making you take the power back. You will end this, and soon or I will come back for as long as it takes to convince you." Her eyes shone with determination, and you can't doubt her sincerity. "This ends. Now."

Then taking back up her umbrella and re-wrapping her bundle, Tanya walked gracefully towards the door, the lengthy, but one-sided conversation never leaving the entrance. Once at the door, she turns to you one last time and says, "I know he plans to come to you tonight. I will allow you one last night with my husband, to settle yourself to the idea of breaking it off, but that is it. Do it tonight, or I shall be back tomorrow." and with a decisive nod farewell, she left, the door swinging closed behind her silently.


End file.
